


Violets and Rue

by IronicChampagne



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Female Characters, Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 14:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10515261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronicChampagne/pseuds/IronicChampagne
Summary: The untold stories of Queen Gertrude and Ophelia





	

I truly, honestly try to enjoy parties. Anyone who saw me wouldn't think so, but I swear, I usually try. Tonight I gave up. Tonight I am hunched underneath my brother Laertes' over-sized jacket trying to look miserable so that Laertes will finally offer to take me home. So far, I have had no such luck.

A voice that no one but I can hear says, "I have been saying this for centuries and I will keep saying it for several centuries more: Life is absolutely wasted on the Living."

I glance to my right to see my most constant companion, a ghost. Of course I, Ophelia the shrinking violet, go to a party and don't socialize with anyone but a dead woman I have been socializing with since I was a child. Not only that but I can't respond to any of her comments. I learned a long time ago that talking to "imaginary friends" in public is only cute when you're five.

The Duchess isn't the only ghost I know, but she is the only one who seems to enjoy my company more than the other lost souls of Elsinore. Or maybe those other souls couldn't stand her griping anymore and sent her to haunt me.

"If I had teeth and a tongue I wouldn't be sitting here chewing on my lip. I would be eating appetizers and drinking cocktails," The Duchess lectures. "But here you are, wasting your God-given time. You would make a better ghost than living person."

I quickly blink back tears. Not true! I want to shout. Of course I don't. The potential embarrassment of me shouting at empty air is more than enough reason stay quiet.

A fanfare announces the royal family and everyone pauses their dancing and talking to stand in respect. Etiquette doesn't require them to stand still for long, so the party soon picks up where it left off. I stay longer to see who exactly came in.

There's my father, Polonius. I blush, remembering his comments about my new purple dress. I had felt so pretty and (dare I say it?) confident, but that was soon crushed by his short, well-meaning comment, "Is that really what you're wearing? Did you bring something to put over it?" No, I didn't. Luckily, Laertes' jacket takes care of that. The Duchess thoroughly expressed her disgust in my people-pleasing ways, but I would rather her disgust than risk my father's shame.

I let him ruin another event for me. I shrug off that thought and think of more cheerful things. Like the queen's yellow dress. Gertrude is a very beautiful woman and she looks marvelous this evening. (Her neckline is much lower than mine, but no one seems to think any worse of her for it...)

Prince Hamlet isn't there. The one person who could have redeemed this evening for me isn't here. I slump back into my chair.

Hamlet is here in Elsinore, but I haven't seen him at all. I knew this would happen. Why would the prince of Denmark still be interested in me?

"Hey, sulky," The Duchess says to me, "remember how I told you this new King Claudius is trouble?"

"Yes," I murmur so that no one hears me. I find the king in the crowd while trying to stifle all my thoughts about Hamlet. I will not cry in public, I will not cry in public, I think until I spot the king.

Hamlet's uncle... I mean the king of Denmark doesn't look like trouble to me. He looks like an ordinary man with expensive taste. He chats and laughs freely. Nothing about him would make me assume that he is a bad person, but The Duchess loves any conspiracy theory- the less proof, the better.

"Well," The Duchess says smugly, "I am now absolutely certain that he is trouble."

"I really don't see..."

"Then you're blind," The Duchess snaps. "Look at the back wall."

And there on the back wall is the worst proof I could ask for.

It's the dead king.

It's the dead King Hamlet staring right at the new king as if by staring he would murder his brother. I am shocked that he hasn't succeeded yet and wait for Claudius to drop down cold.

Everything about this ghost is horrible. I now wonder how I recognized him. The old king did not have inky eyes and a mottled, decaying face. The old king never wore an expression of twisted anger and vengeance and absolute anguish.

I try to breathe steadily, but my chest squeezes in. My blood turns to syrup and my heart can barely pump it. My stomach churns. How does no other guest notice this monster in their midst? How can they not feel it in every bone in their bodies?

"It's the first time you have seen a brand-new, murdered ghost, eh?" The Duchess chuckles. "You had better hope he doesn't need you for any reason."

And at that moment the ghost turns his head for the first time. He moves slowly like his neck is rusty. But then his black-hole eyes rest right. on. me.

Every organ in my body freezes solid but only for a second. Then I'm blindly running away. Anywhere. I collide with several unidentified obstacles. They could be people, but it doesn't matter. I find myself outside, sobbing and vomiting in the grass. My thawed organs ache and I am weak.

Somehow I wander to Laertes' car and climb in. What am I to do? I am the only one who can save all those people from that Thing. But now that I am curled up in the backseat, I am paralyzed. Even if the dead king followed me here, I wouldn't be able to move.

Instead of saving my father, my brother, and my country, I cry myself to sleep.


End file.
